“Exactly.”
Tate grinned. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
“Only if you don’t try. Tate, you haven’t taken a risk in so long. I think taking this one will make up for it. The worst that’s going to happen is he’ll break your heart. And since your heart is already broken, it can’t be that much worse.”
Tate felt her pulse race and her heart pound. Sara was right. It would be scary to go to him-but then, she had faced scary. And she’d kicked scary’s ass.
ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER sunrise, and Michael wasn’t getting better. His hand was healing, but missing Tate continued to get worse.
He didn’t understand. Yes, he was depressed. He got that. He’d made some big mistakes and there had been consequences. That wasn’t what was making him nuts.
That had everything to do with Tate. Not Charlie, not the kidnapping, not the killings. Tate haunted his dreams, haunted his waking hours. He kept thinking about how she’d been so brave, how she’d fought so hard. He remembered, too vividly, the way her skin felt, the taste of her flesh, how he felt when he slipped inside her.
He took a sip of coffee, wishing she were there, wishing he could find a way to justify calling her. If he couldn’t do that, he wanted a way to forget her. Perhaps now that Charlie was in jail he could go back to the Army. If his hand healed correctly. If they’d take him.
It would all be a lot easier if he would stop thinking he saw her out of the corner of his eye. Every woman with reddish-brown hair made his pulse race. Until he saw that it was just a woman and not Tate. Then he’d hear a voice, and the cycle would start over again until he saw it was a stranger.
The persistence of her memory had taken him over. Like a virus, she had spread throughout his system. Unfortunately there were no pills or shots to help him.
He felt someone next to his chair, but he didn’t want any more coffee or a drink. He looked up, ready to send the boy away. But it wasn’t a boy. And it wasn’t a dream.
“Tate?”
She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, with her hair down and wild, the way it had been on the boat. She wore no makeup and her eyes were puffy from crying. He’d never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.
“I tried, Michael. I did. I tried to see it your way and I gave your argument all I could. But the only conclusion I could come to was that you couldn’t be more wrong if you tried.”
He couldn’t help laughing at that, even though she looked damn serious.
“Don’t laugh. I mean it. You’re an idiot.”
“I never had any doubts about that.”
“Good, so we’re agreed. And since you’re an idiot and I’m tough and smart, here’s what we’re gonna do.” She came around in front of him and pulled him up by his T-shirt. “We’re going to figure out who we are and what we want and we’re going to do it together. I have no idea if it’s going to last a week or a lifetime, but I’ll be damned if I walk away and don’t find out.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Any questions?”
“What about your-”
She put her fingers over his mouth. “This isn’t about my father. So no questions about him. And it’s not about money, because there was a million-dollar reward for my safe return, which you completely and utterly deserve, so you have money, I have money-and, dammit, money isn’t the issue.”
“Are you through?”
“No. I also want you to know that just because you saved my life doesn’t mean I feel some kind of obligation toward you. I’m not going through a phase and I’m not here because you’re the first man in years to make my toes curl. I’m here because being with you is the best thing that’s happened to me. Ever. You’re an amazing man and I admire every single thing about you. Of course, when we actually live together, I reserve the right to get cranky. But still, I think you’re incredible and I don’t want to spend another day without you.”
“Are you through now?”
“For the moment.”
“Good. Because I love you.”
Her lips curved up in a wicked smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“All that other stuff?”
He shrugged. “We’ll deal.”
“I thought this would be harder.”
He shook his head. “I can’t get you out of my head. You’ve been driving me insane.”
She sighed and closed her eyes. “Thank God. Because I love you, too.”
He smiled as his whole body relaxed. “Thank God,” he said. And then he kissed her.
My Secret Life by Lori Wilde
1
KATIE WINFIELD plotted the seduction with military precision.
Exactitude wasn’t her typical modus operandi. On the contrary, she was usually quite spontaneous and, in fact, had a reputation as something of a free spirit. But she and Richard had been flirting for weeks with no forward motion in their relationship. Tonight would thrust them toward a whole new level of intimacy.
Embracing the advance planning she normally eschewed, Katie picked up a pencil and ticked off the items on her To Do list.
Facial and pedicure. Check.
Sexy French-maid costume. Check.
Tantalizing new perfume. Check.
Catch-me, do-me stilettos. Check.
Auburn wig. Check.
Black silk stockings. Check.
Push-up bra. Check.
Erotic face mask. Check.
Lots and lots of condoms. Check.
Just reading over the list made her feel all warm and tingly and soft inside. This evening-during the ultraposh Boston Ladies League charity costume ball thrown annually on the Friday before Labor Day weekend-she intended on bedazzling the pants off Richard Montgomery Hancock the III.
Katie had spent her lunch hour shopping. She’d just returned to work fifteen minutes late and out of breath. Furtively, she kicked the loot farther underneath her desk, and then darted a glance over her shoulder to see if her boss had noticed her tardiness.
“What didja buy?” asked her office mate, Tanisha Taylor, as she sauntered through the door, grande soy latte in hand.
Katie shrugged. “Nothing much.”
At five-nine, Tanisha towered over Katie’s own five feet three inches. They were both twenty-four and they’d started working as graphic artists at Sharper Designs on the very same day ten months earlier. It was the longest Katie had ever worked anywhere and she was starting to feel the strain of being in one place too long.
With her radiant, caramel complexion and deep chocolate-brown eyes, Tanisha was drop-dead beautiful. She wore her hair in a tightly braided shoulder-length style that made her narrow face look even thinner. She possessed the lean muscular build of a dancer, quite the opposite of Katie’s well-rounded, non-athletic figure. They made for an unusual looking pair.
Today her coworker was dressed in a lavender blouse made of pure silk that she wore tucked into a pair of straight-legged, black slacks and sensible black flats. But Katie knew from the wild nights they’d recently spent closing down bars that beneath the buttoned-down attire lurked the adventuresome soul of a Nubian goddess.
Tanisha spied the red-and-black striped bag from Fetching Fantasies and dove for it before Katie could block her. Tanisha set down her latte, perched on the edge of Katie’s desk and peeked inside the bag.
“Oo-la-la, what have we here? Parlez-vous français?” she teased.
Katie snatched the bag away and clutched it to her chest. “Just a costume for the Ladies League masquerade party. No biggie.”
Tanisha grinned. “You are going to be the hussy of the ball in that getup.”
“That’s the general idea.”
“Spill it. Who’ve you got lined up in your crosshairs?”
Returning Tanisha’s sly grin, Katie slowly shook her head.
“Don’t give me that. I know you’ve got something up your sleeve.”
Katie tilted her head, lowered her eyelashes and slanted Tanisha a sideways glance. “Do you know Richard Hancock?”